


Cold December Night

by Foxienonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, professor!shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxienonymous/pseuds/Foxienonymous
Summary: Keith has been keeping his nose to the grindstone - finishing up his dissertation, teaching classes. With the end of the semester in sight, he meets an absolutely gorgeous professor from across campus. How could he possibly say no to a date?
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 148





	Cold December Night

Keith was becoming increasingly more agitated as he sat in the empty lecture hall. He had come to campus for his one Wednesday course – an 11am _Analyzing Peace, Violence, and War_ course, which was the last formal class he had to take before submitting his dissertation and graduating with a PhD in Peace and Conflict Policy Analysis. Coran, the professor for the class and Keith’s advisor, had cancelled due to a speaking engagement, even notated the schedule change in the syllabus. Unfortunately, Keith had overslept after working late driving the Altea University drunk van the night before and rushed to the hall to find it completely empty.

The hall was pretty standard issue, with tiered, semi-circular rows and long tables fixed in place, mostly in institutional beige. There was a door in the back that emptied out onto the second floor of the building; a podium and projector screen stood at the front of the classroom near the first-floor entry door, along with a table. He swore under his breath to the empty hall and sat down anyway in the second row to try to get some grading done, figuring that he had at least three hours before the next class started to wander into the hall and he would have to pack it in. In addition to his driving job, he was also a teaching assistant for the P&C department, which, for the most part, meant doing the heavy lifting of actually teaching two sections of Introduction to P&C Studies to first-year students.

He’d been fine for the first two hours, immersed in his students’ papers on basic conflict resolution methods, until his attention was snagged by someone hovering near the front door of the lecture hall. Keith only caught the movement of someone skirting just out of his eyeline away from the door and couldn’t make out who was standing just beyond the threshold. At first, he assumed it might have just been one of his classmates that had forgotten about the cancelled class like he had. He shrugged to himself and kept working but couldn’t quite take his focus back from the doorframe. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except that the loiterer was typing away on a smart phone that still had keyboard clicking enabled with the volume jacked all the way up.

After fifteen minutes of almost non-stop clacking, Keith sat back and stared toward the door, fully intending to interrogate whomever was hanging out there. He was already annoyed with himself that he’d come to campus on a day when he didn’t have to (the classes he taught were Tuesday/Thursday, as were his office hours); now he was listening to some psycho that kept their keyboard sounds on. Who even did that? Wasn’t that everyone’s first thing to shut off?

The clicking paused and the lingerer wrapped an enormous hand around the frame while poking his head into the hall. Keith sat up a little straighter as he took in the source of the noise: his hair was shock-white but his face was young, a faded scar gracing the bridge of his nose. He smiled at Keith a little sheepishly, slate eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Hi! I’m so sorry to bother you. I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

Keith swallowed thickly, shaking the smooth baritone of his voice off. “Yeah, no, there isn’t. I mean, I am. Here. But there’s no class.”

The stranger stepped into the room, ducking a little in the doorway, impossibly broad shoulders clad in a gray wool suit jacket, matching pants, and a crisp white shirt underneath with a black leather messenger bag slung over his right shoulder. Keith was reminded of every grayscale men’s fashion advertisement he’d ever seen in his life.

“I figured I could do a little work here and get set up before my class since Dr. Smythe is out today.” He gestured to the podium. “You don’t mind if I…?”

“No, no, not at all!” Keith replied, waving him off. “I’m just grading. Definitely not a problem.”

“Well, just let me know if I’m disturbing you. You were here first, and I’m not really slated to be here until three.”

Keith gave him a non-committal shrug and went back to his papers, admonishing himself for his response. He should have introduced himself, figured out who this guy was.

He tried to focus, but before long, the interloper was sighing at the podium. He looked back and forth from his laptop to the projector, which had kicked on but wasn’t connecting. After a somewhat pointed “Oh goodness” from the suit aimed at the classroom technology, Keith blew out a breath softly and set aside the paper he’d now read for the fourth time; there was no way he was going to be able to work like this, but he also didn’t want to be rude by clearing out immediately after telling this stranger he was fine with the company.

Fixing his gaze on the man struggling at the podium, Keith cleared his throat. “Uhm, something wrong?”

He seemed to roll his eyes at himself, gesturing at the laptop. “Oh, you know, the projector is just rejecting my code to cast to it. I have the worst luck with this thing. Have you used it before?”

“A few times. The access code was written down backwards in this room.” Keith hopped up from where he was sitting to go over to the man. “Would you like me to try?”

He gave Keith a “Go for it” gesture, stepping just enough to the side to let Keith center himself in front of the computer. This man easily stood head and shoulders above him and Keith found himself having to take another beat before focusing on the computer. With a couple of keystrokes and a whiff of ozone, the stranger’s desktop – featuring a chubby flat-faced black cat – was mirrored on the projector.

Keith had to chuckle. “Cute background.”

“Thanks – ?” Stepping back, he thrust a hand out to Keith, letting the word hang.

“Keith Kogane,” he replied, taking his hand. He tried to mask the surprise on his face as he registered that the hand he was shaking was metal and dwarfed his own.

The man didn’t seem to notice, simply smiling gratitude. “Thank you, Keith. I’m Takashi Shirogane, but pretty much everyone calls me Shiro. I’ll be sure to tell Black you said she was cute.”

Shiro winked and held his hand for a few moments longer than Keith was used to before withdrawing. He offered a half shrug again, returning the smile just barely, trying to tamp down on the flutter in his stomach at the wink. “Anytime, Shiro. Happy to help.”

He went back to his pile of papers as Shiro stepped back in front of his laptop, starting to dig into files, opening what looked like PDFs of star charts to Keith, although he tried not to look.

After a few minutes of companionable silence and clicking away at his laptop, Shiro looked back up. “So, Keith, are you in Dr. Smythe’s class?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, one of his grad classes. Coran’s my advisor.”

Shiro hummed, turning to his bag to pull out a hefty notebook. “Research assistant?”

“Nah, teaching assistant.”

“Oh, of course,” he said, actually scrubbing a hand over his face as if embarrassed. “You’re grading papers. Of course.”

Keith found himself chuckling again. This guy was a space cadet if ever he’d met one, but he found it endearing. “Yeah, and finalizing a dissertation. I probably shouldn’t have taken so much on, but I can’t go back now, especially with the semester almost over.”

Shiro nodded as he flipped through the notebook. “I was the same way when I was in my doctoral program.”

“What do you teach?” Keith was genuinely curious. The University was a pretty big place, and he’d never seen Shiro before, despite Shiro knowing Coran and Keith being pretty sure he would have seen such an imposing, striking guy on campus.

“Energy Engineering courses, mostly –”

Ah, that explained it. Hard science classes were typically held across town on the Garrison campus of the University, with social sciences and arts classes held on the Ceres campus.

“—But I have a section of Exploring the Universe for non-science majors.” He found the page he was looking for and folded the notebook on itself, putting it down on the podium before moving to half sit on the table centered in front of the projector screen.

“I took that as an undergrad,” Keith commented, rolling his eyes.

Shiro mocked a wounded look, clutching his chest. “I really like teaching it! Who did you take it with that you say it like that?”

Keith snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I should say, considering that it was painful.”

“Hmm… Maybe you should, so I can see if it’s the material or the teaching style.” Shiro crossed his arms, giving Keith a lopsided grin that made him warm.

“Iverson. And he almost failed me, despite everyone I know telling me that you could go to the final after not going to class all semester and pass.”

Shiro drummed the fingers of his prosthetic against his other forearm, thinking it over.

“Definitely the teaching style, then. He can be…” He searched for a word. “…Demanding. And can forget he’s not teaching astrophysics-minded students. He’s a good guy, but I can see how he might take the fun out of the subject.”

Keith looked up at the clock and started organizing the papers he had laid out on the table. He decided to pack up his bag, resigning that he wasn’t going to get much done at this point. “What do you like about it?”

“Oh, _everything_.” Shiro’s face lit up. “Before I changed my focus to energy sciences, I was really interested in astronomy and thought it was what I’d go into eventually. I know teaching gen eds are supposed to be the bane of everyone’s existence around here, but it’s a way to stay connected to something I’m passionate about. There’s so much that’s amazing.”

“It must be nice to take it with someone who actually _likes_ the material.” That definitely hadn’t been his experience with the class, he thought to himself as he gathered his things. He couldn’t imagine having a class like that with someone like Shiro.

Keith started to wonder if Shiro was like this with everyone – chatty and open with perfect strangers – although, based solely on his demeanor so far, he wasn’t surprised that Shiro seemed to be friends, or at least acquainted, with Coran.

“What about you, Keith?” Shiro’s direct question snapped him out of his own head. “What are you studying?”

“Peace and Conflict Policy.” Keith thought about that for a second, wondering how much to say. “My, uh, my mother works in the state department. Hoping I’ll follow in her footsteps once I’m done here, I think.”

If he were honest with himself, while he was proud of his mother, her position as a diplomat, and the work she did, Keith wasn’t particularly interested in diplomacy, although the life of service aspect appealed to him. She’d never pushed him but reminded him frequently enough that there was a place for him if he wanted it.

Shiro nodded again. “What’s your dissertation on?”

Keith heaved a sigh and stood up, picking up his leather jacket from the back of his chair and pulling it on. “How much time do you have? And how much do you know about foreign aid?”

This earned Keith a laugh and he smiled upon hearing it, throwing his bag over his shoulder and heading to the door. He didn’t mind not getting anything done if he could be on the receiving end of that.

Shiro glanced at his watch, then pulled a pad of post-its and a pen out of his bag. He jotted something down, pulled the post-it off, and met Keith by the door.

“Ah, if you want to keep chatting, I’d love to hear about it. Give me a call or, um, shoot me a text if you’re free this week.”

Shiro held out the post-it and Keith reached for it in what felt like slow motion. A deep blush stained across Shiro’s cheeks.

“I will. Have a good class, Shiro – nice to meet you.”

Shiro waved as Keith turned to walk away, clutching the yellow piece of paper tightly.

* * *

Keith headed home to his well-worn off-campus apartment and felt as if he was floating above the pavement. He had to check the paper in his hand three or four times to make sure he had, in fact, been given an unbelievably handsome professor’s phone number.

He let himself into the three-bedroom he shared with his friends Hunk and Pidge, bracing himself once he opened the door. He was almost knocked over by paws and fur.

“Down, Kosmo, down! Buddy, I know, I know, I’m home,” Keith called, pushing the Tamaskan dog down and laughing. He dropped his bag and kicked the door shut behind him, kneeling to scratch Kosmo behind the ears. He licked at Keith’s face before yipping, sinking low and wagging his tail before springing back up to him again.

Keith rubbed at his head one more time before standing and heading into the kitchen with Kosmo at his heels. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against counter, unfolding the post-it still in his hand. He smiled, looking down at the 10-digits.

He finished the bottle of water and pulled out his cell, plugging the number into a blank text and pausing. It had maybe been a half hour – was that too soon?

It had truly been ages since Keith had been out on a date. If this was a date? It felt like being asked out. He ended up with someone’s number. A handsome someone. On a post-it note. That couldn’t have been more cliché.

Kosmo nosed at Keith’s leg and whined softly. He looked from the oversized pup to his phone and fired off a text that he hoped didn’t read as desperate or over-eager.

“Well,” he said, reaching down to scratch Kosmo’s ears while trying to tamp down on the flip his stomach was doing. “I guess we’ll see what happens. Run, boy?”

* * *

The sound of a shmaltzy crooner hit Keith before he let himself and Kosmo back into the apartment a couple hours later.

“Hey, Hunk,” he called over the music, hip-checking the door shut and taking the leash off of Kosmo, who abandoned him to bound into the kitchen to say hello to his roommate. He toed off his shoes before following the pup.

Hunk was scratching Kosmo behind the ears as Keith popped up onto a stool across the counter from him. “Hey! You guys are home early. Cut the run short today?”

He wasn’t wrong. Kosmo was an awesome dog, but he needed a ridiculous amount of activity to keep him from eating the drywall and Keith was a creature of habit. They were usually morning runners, but Keith took him out in the afternoon on Wednesdays and Fridays so he could sleep in the morning, since he worked late on Tuesday and Thursday nights.

Today had been tough, though. He never brought his phone on a run, and he spent the entire trek wondering if Shiro had responded yet. The December weather was also starting to turn, and an hour in, the temperature dipped and the sky turned gray. They stuck it out, but instead of taking his usual route to the far end of the park on the other side of the Garrison campus and around in a loop, he’d doubled back when he reached the outskirts closest to his apartment.

“Yeah, just wasn’t feeling it. Right, boy?”

Kosmo boofed in response before collapsing in front of his water dish. Keith eyed his phone, face down on the counter, then turned his attention to the baking dish and bowl Hunk was working on, brows furrowing.

“Chicken pot pie,” Hunk answered. “I think it’s gonna be kind of crappy out for the next few days… Winter’s finally here. Thought this might be a good thing to have on hand.”

“You’ll hear no complaints from me,” Keith replied, raising his hands and backing toward his room to grab new clothes.

“I better not!” Hunk called after him, laughing.

“Nah, I’ll leave that to Pidge,” he shot back.

After showering and changing, Keith settled into the couch with the papers he was determined to finish grading before dinner. With a week left to the semester, he was anxious to get these papers back to his students so that they could work through any issues before their finals.

Pidge came in at some point and began bantering with Hunk about work: they had both been engineering majors – Pidge in electronics engineering and Hunk in mechanical – and were now working for rival firms specializing in wireless communication technology. They routinely bounced ideas off each other that would probably get them fired one day for breaking proprietary information rules, but it was an easy friendship all the same. The three of them had somehow ended up in the same late orientation group, were placed in the same residence hall, and were still friends seven years later.

By the time the pot pie was done, Keith had burned through the last of the papers and the conversation had veered away from work to some new purchase on Steam. He fed Kosmo and got dinner himself, settling into his usual place at the short end of the L-shaped counter in the kitchen, Hunk leaning against the interior side and Pidge parked on a stool across from him. His attention returned to the phone he’d left on the counter as he poked absentmindedly at his dinner, suddenly nervous to find out if he had any new messages.

He jumped a mile as Pidge prodded his arm. “…Earth to Keith.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “What?”

Hunk laughed while he scraped at the bottom of his now-empty bowl. “You were spacing out on us, bud.”

“Yeah, I asked if you wanted your phone…?” Pidge repeated, grabbing the device and sliding it to him across the counter. “It was blowing up a little bit ago.”

Keith picked it up and flipped it, unable to stop the smile that perked at the edges of his mouth when he saw that he had a few texts waiting. From Shiro.

* * *

Keith’s Thursday was a slog as an icy rain settled over the city.

He’d spent a good chunk of Wednesday night chatting via text with Shiro, some small talk about their evenings and what their Thursdays looked like (jam-packed for both of them). Keith was surprised to see how open Shiro was even via text: he now knew that on nights where he didn’t have any other responsibilities, Shiro would watch reruns of an old murder mystery show featuring a widowed mystery writer that always seemed to have to solve a crime. Keith told him he looked really good for an octogenarian, which earned him a few crying-laughing emojis.

Shiro pivoted at that point to asking Keith if he was free Friday evening for dinner at The Red Lion. He responded by saying that Shiro could pick him up at seven, if he wouldn’t mind missing out on the blue plate special, followed by emojis of an old man and a wink. Shiro upped the ante by sending back a gif of a Shiba Inu covering his face with his paws, and a confirmation that seven was perfect if Keith would send him his address.

He did, and now all he could do was wait for Friday night to get there, making Thursday drag. His run with Kosmo in the morning had been difficult in light of the foul weather and his jitteriness at having scored a date. He moved through both his Intro sections, glad he had prepped the classes so well and that his students were invested in carrying the lecture with input. His office hours went by quickly, as a few of his students popped by to discuss the papers he had handed back.

Van driving was excruciating, however. Even with Kosmo riding shotgun, students were extra obnoxious traveling between stops to walk to bars off campus or different parties. He just wanted his shift to be over and to go home. It was the longest seven hours of his life.

He didn’t bother looking at his phone until he fell into bed at quarter of two, but his stomach did a little flip seeing the message there from a few hours earlier:

_Hope you had a good day :) Can’t wait to see you tomorrow night_

* * *

“What do you think, buddy?”

Kosmo looked at Keith before turning his attention back to the scrap of blanket he was currently chewing on, laid out on the floor of Keith’s bedroom. Keith had brought a blanket that smelled like him to the shelter before bringing Kosmo home, and now, four years later, the queen-sized blanket had been reduced to several tattered squares Kosmo left all over the apartment.

“You’re no help,” Keith muttered and assessed his reflection, brushing the bangs out of his eyes and pulling at the loose fishtail side braid he’d woven his hair into to make it look a little more casual. He looked down past his inky hair to the black fitted v-neck tee, dark jeans, and his well-worn moto boots. He wondered if he should dig out nicer shoes when there was a knock at the door.

Kosmo let out an excited bark and left the blanket scrap on the floor to run to the living room and the front door. Keith took a quick look at the clock on his dresser – 6:54. Of course he was punctual.

He chased after, grabbing Kosmo’s collar gently to pull him back from the door. “Kosmo, buddy, _chill_.”

He put himself between the door and the dog, snapping twice. “Sit.” Kosmo sat quickly, his tail thumping furiously on the floor. Keith held up a finger, half turning to start unlocking the door. “Stay. Staaaay.”

Kosmo whined, but stayed where he was, ears swiveling back and forth like giant satellite dishes. When Keith was relatively sure he was calm, he turned and opened the door slowly.

His breath caught for a moment: Shiro was really here on his doorstep, tall with a million-watt smile.

“Hey!” Shiro said brightly, thumbs hooked into the pockets on an open tan trench coat that hit a couple of inches above the knee of tight black jeans, layered over what looked to Keith like an extremely cozy grey sweater with a shawl neck, toggles unclipped.

“Hi,” Keith answered, opening the door slowing and stepping back to let him in. “C’mon in. I just have to grab my jacket and we can head out.”

As Shiro stepped inside the apartment and Keith closed the door, his eyes fell on Kosmo, and the look he gave the dog almost turned Keith into a puddle right there.

“Hel _lo_ sir,” Shiro cooed in a higher pitch, reaching out to let Kosmo sniff his hand. He stayed sitting but scooted forward to get closer to Shiro before licking at his fingers.

“Kosmo, Shiro. Shiro, Kosmo.” Keith said by way of an introduction before popping back into his room to grab his jacket. Though he was only gone for a second, he came back into the living room to Shiro on the floor wrestling with Kosmo, who had both paws on his shoulders and was trying to lick his face. They both looked at Keith as if they’d been caught, Kosmo sitting immediately.

Keith briefly considered that he’d never believed in love at first sight before, but now he was confronted with it in Shiro meeting Kosmo. He was barely able to contain the laughter that escaped him. Shiro stood, chuckling himself and giving Kosmo a tussle of the ears.

Keith pulled on his jacket, smiling broadly. “Well, I guess we can leave now, since Kos likes you. I’ll just text the roommates and let them know you passed the test.”

Shiro ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly. It was adorable. “Was that a concern?”

Keith laughed and shook his head. “Nah. But they don’t necessarily trust my judgement at times. They do trust Kosmo’s, though.”

Shiro followed Keith out of the apartment, hanging back for him to lock up and reaching around him to hold the front door to the three-decker open as they stepped out in the rain. He hustled over to the car parked right out front to get the door for Keith, who marveled at the sleek graphite crossover. The door handles popped out as Shiro stepped close. He opened the door and turned to give Keith a smile as Keith almost floated into the vehicle.

He looked around the interior as Shiro closed the door and crossed to his own, sliding in beside him. He hadn’t been in a car this expensive in a really long time, and when he had, it had been while with his mom on their way to one of her work functions. Shiro started it up with uncanny silence, upbeat music blaring out the speakers before jumping to turn the volume all the way down. Keith snorted out a laugh, eyebrows perking up in surprise at the song. 

“No one listens to The Vandals.”

Shiro’s cheeks pinked as he pulled away from the curb, skipping the song and turning the music up slightly to a pleasant background level. “Just that song, really. I, uh… I don’t listen to a lot of punk anymore, but it’s a feel-good song, you know?” 

Keith hummed agreement and thought it was sweet: Shiro had been listening to “I Have a Date” on his way over. A little on the nose, but undeniably sweet. 

“I’m surprised you listen to it that loud. The car barely makes any noise to have to hear over.” 

Shiro relaxed, nodding, eyes pinned to the road. “Yeah, it took a lot of getting used to when I bought it. I kind of miss the sound of a conventional engine, but this is arguably better from an energy sustainability standpoint.” He laughed a little to himself, before adding shyly, “Geeky to be worried about, I know.”

“Nah, that’s dedication to your work,” Keith assured him. “And, in any case, I’m a fan. I’ve been dying to get into one of these.” 

Cars, in general, were a hobby of Keith’s, inherited from his father, and alternative energy had interested him as he started learning more about the infrastructure of other countries. That said, this particular electric luxury model seemed like something he would only be able to drool over at one of the manufacturer’s mall dealerships. 

He’d seen several on campus in the faculty lots while on his runs with Kosmo, but he never thought the owner would be closer to his age than Coran’s.

“It was a birthday gift to myself,” Shiro said with a lopsided grin. “A late quarter-life-crisis-purchase when I turned 30.”

“Generous gift,” Keith commented, snorting another laugh.

“I don’t normally do that!” Shiro insisted, chuckling. “I swear, it shocked most of my friends. I had been driving an absolute junker of a Jeep prior to this. It was one of those money-pit cars, but I’d had it since high school, so replacing it was going to take something special.”

He pulled the car into the parking lot of The Red Lion. The restaurant was a renovated warehouse not far off the campus, but considering the make-up of Altea as a city, most things weren’t far off campus. Half of The Red Lion was set up like a traditional restaurant with booths and tables, low lighting, and a relaxed atmosphere. The other half was a dedicated bar-space, with karaoke on Sunday nights and a DJ after 10pm Thursdays through Saturdays. Keith had spent plenty of time on the bar-side with countless nights out. He’d even hit up karaoke more than once with friends.

Even so, he let Shiro lead the way in, following him to the empty hostess stand. They waited only a minute until the hostess, a middle-aged and friendly blonde, returned.

“Shiro! I saw that you were coming in tonight,” she said brightly, taking up two menus.

“Hi, Cheryl. How are the girls? Still in dance?”

She shrugged with one shoulder, smiling. “Busy, as always. Jen is, but Jaime quit and took up competitive swimming. She’s so good at it! They keep me running around, that’s for sure.” She tapped and swiped on the iPad screen sitting on the hostess stand with her free hand before looking back up to Shiro. “Curtis put you in the lounge. Is that okay?”

Shiro looked at Keith, who nodded and shrugged a little. “Fine with me.”

“Perfect, then!” Cheryl replied before stepping out from behind the hostess stand and motioning for them to follow her.

She brought them to a round booth in the far corner of the bar. They slid into the booth from either side and she bounced away with a “Nice to see you! Have a great night.”

Once she was out of earshot, Keith laughed. “How do you know Cheryl?”

Shiro ducked his head, bashful smile gracing his lips. “I, uh, babysat her daughters after I moved out here. I ended up on a university list-serv and one of the other professors sent out a request for childcare for us to pass along to our students. None of my students seemed to bite, so I reached out directly to person looking, who happened to be Cheryl.”

“When was that?” Keith asked.

“Maybe… five years ago? Her husband was deployed at the time and she doesn’t have any family nearby, so she needed some support. He came back after two years, so she didn’t need help anymore, but she still keeps me in the loop about the girls when I come in. And –” Shiro leaned into Keith and dropped his voice to let him in on a secret. “I’m on the Christmas card list.”

He wiggled his eyebrows before dissolving into laughter. Keith snorted and chuckled along with him. How had he stumbled into such a sweet guy?

When their waiter dropped by the table, they ordered drinks – a rum and coke for Keith and a vodka soda for Shiro – and an order of fried pickles, with Shiro earning a laugh from the waiter (and a groan from Keith) when he insisted the appetizer was _kind of a big dill_ on the menu.

After receiving the first part of their order (with Shiro exclaiming “Ah! I’ve been _relishing_ the thought of these!”), Shiro started grilling him good-naturedly about his dissertation. Keith tried not to ramble too much about his project: he’d spent two years testing the success of micro-loan programs in underserved areas to see if it would have an overarching impact on community engagement and poverty. It was too soon to tell if the long-term effects would be positive, but the small investments had made a substantial difference in the day-to-day lives of the people living in Olkarion, who had been able to jump-start their own businesses outside of the logging industry, which was the biggest source of jobs in the area. The region was lush but remote, mostly cut off from other areas by the mountains that surrounded it.

Keith had tripped into the world of financing small businesses and non-profits and wondered how it could be applied beyond the country’s boundaries in order to smooth over relationships and help advance other economies without too much interference from the funding country itself. He had pitched his ideas not long after graduating with his undergrad degree and worked with some of the University’s wealthier donors to fund a micro-loan program for the Olkari, thinking that if he could prove the program worked within the country’s borders, it could be applied elsewhere.

Shiro listened intently while Keith spoke, eyes sparkling into his as he talked about his observations and the people he had met while promoting the loan program in Olkarion. They had subsidized and loaned more than $300,000.00 in small amounts to a wide variety of businesses.

“That seems really rewarding,” Shiro commented. “I can’t think of too many people who would be able to generate those kinds of donations or make sure they got to communities that needed them the most.”

Keith shrugged, feeling his cheeks heating up under the warm glow of Shiro’s soft smile. He took a long pull from his drink before responding. “Honestly, it’s been great, but I had my mom to help secure seed money and a good friend to run crash courses in the basics of business, so I hardly did it all on my own. Now I’m just trying to write up my findings and submit them for review.”

Shiro hummed and reached out to squeeze Keith’s hand. “Don’t be so modest. It’s your brainchild and clearly something you’re passionate about.”

Shiro pulled his hand back as their waiter came back over to take their dinner orders and to bring Keith another drink. Keith missed the heat almost immediately.

Conversation came so easily between them, as did a gentle kind of banter. Shiro ordered a salad for dinner, which prompted Keith (who had ordered a black-and-blue burger with extra blue cheese and side of buffalo sauce) to ask if he’d ever seen a carb prior to the batter on the pickles. Shiro had blushed and cited not getting to the gym earlier that day as the reason, aside from the fact that he _liked_ greens and ate them frequently since it didn’t require a lot of cooking, which he admitted being dreadful at.

Keith told him about his mother’s atrocious cooking skills and his father’s dedication to food having been instilled in him, along with a love of cars, before his passing. Shiro touched briefly on his own family, his parents’ own passing twelve years ago and his grandmother’s six years ago. Keith tried to apologize, but Shiro waved him off and launched into a story about trying to make his grandmother’s lemon bars once before she forbade him from ever touching her recipe box again. By the time he explained confusing baking powder for powdered sugar and the look on his grandmother’s face when she bit into a bar, they were both laughing so hard it was difficult to breathe.

They’d finished dinner and Keith had burned through three drinks by 9:30 as the DJ started to set up. Their waiter went to drop off the check but was sent away almost immediately with Shiro’s credit card, much to Keith’s protests.

As Shiro was signing the receipt, the manager came over to their table. Keith had definitely seen him before and recognized him as the slim brunette who covered for the bartenders.

“Hey Shiro! Welcome back! It’s been a minute.”

Keith watched as Shiro bristled, his mouth tightening just slightly before he tucked the pen into the receipt folder. He set a smile on before looking up. “Hi James. I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

Shiro stood and shook his hand.

“Just popping over to say hello. I saw your reservation earlier today and was wondering who might be joining you. It looked like an interesting dinner from afar.”

James’ eyes flashed over to Keith. He felt like this guy’s smile didn’t actually reach his eyes and wondered if it were a trait of being in the service industry.

“Keith, this is James, general manager of The Red Lion.”

“Oh, is that all?” James actually _tsked_ out loud.

Keith offered a waive, trying to keep his face neutral despite being really confused.

Shiro turned to grab his coat out of the booth, his warm demeanor suddenly steely. “Things were great as usual, James. Thanks so much for checking on us.”

“My pleasure,” James replied, smile never wavering. “Are you heading out? The DJ is doing some kind of techno theme tonight. Should be pretty entertaining.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, we’ve got another place to be.”

“Are you sure?” James pressed. “I’ve got some time. We can catch up a little. I can get to know your friend a little better?”

Shiro pulled on his coat and slipped around James to stand between him and Keith, who had shrugged into his own jacket before sliding out of the booth. As he stood, Shiro put an arm around his shoulder, the height differential between them making it easy.

“Positive.” Shiro replied. “Take care.”

“Nice to meet you,” Keith managed to call out as Shiro led him away.

Shiro was silent as they stepped outside and went back to the car, but he didn’t drop his arm from around Keith until he went to open the door for him again. Keith didn’t mind – the rain had slowed but it was freezing out and the warmth was more than welcome – but he was surprised by the sudden change in Shiro’s demeanor.

“So, uh, old friend?” He asked once Shiro had gotten in.

“Not really.” Shiro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to Keith. “I’m so sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting him to come over. I honestly didn’t even think he’d be there tonight.”

Keith shrugged. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It just made me, ah… Curious.” He huffed a laugh. “I’ve only seen you act like total strangers are your best friends so far.”

Shiro started up the car and took a deep breath. “Well, I guess he’s one of the lucky few that have gotten under my skin.”

Keith feigned a huge sigh of relief. “Oh hallelujah!”

Shiro’s brows knitted together as he looked at Keith. “What?”

Keith laughed and ventured to reach out, resting his hand on the back of Shiro’s prosthetic. “You’re human. I was so worried you were some kind of mythical creature that charms the pants off of everyone he meets.”

Shiro sighed one more time before chuckling himself. “So human. I’m _so_ human.”

After a beat, he smiled at Keith, looking down at where their hands rested together.

“Do you want me to drop you off at your place now?”

Keith thought about it for a second. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Well,” Shiro started. In the dim light of the parking lot and the dashboard of his car, Keith swore Shiro blushed. “I mean, we could hang out at my place for a bit? I make a mean Manhattan.”

Keith took a beat, thinking. “Only if… Only if you tell me what that was about. If you’re comfortable.”

Shiro tilted his head, considering Keith a moment before nodding. “When we get in and I have a stiff drink in my hand, I will.”

* * *

Keith not only recognized the neighborhood Shiro lived in, he recognized the house when Shiro turned into the driveway. Shiro lived along his running route, across from the park on the outskirts of the Garrison campus. The house was an old Tudor, currently dressed up for Christmas with soft white lights running along the framing and woven into the bushes lining the front of the house. He could see the multi-colored lights of a tree through the front window as they pulled up and waited for the garage door to open.

The garage was a two-car, but the second spot was taken up by a motorcycle hiding under a cover. He let himself out of the car before Shiro had a chance to open the door for him, and Keith could have sworn he pouted at Keith’s self-sufficiency. He plugged the car into the panel in the garage and then led the way to the house, Keith following close behind.

They headed in a back door that emptied into an office space with a desk at the far end and a couch and armchair set up closer to the door.

“Hey Atlas, turn on the downstairs lights,” Shiro called, just before the house lit up.

Keith was briefly blinded. Shiro pulled off his coat and threw it across the couch before dropping onto it to pull off his shoes. Keith followed suit, dropping his jacket along the top of the armchair before sitting it in to loosen his boots just enough to slip out of them.

He heard a yowling “Hewww-woooah!” from somewhere distant in the house and his head snapped to Shiro, who started laughing.

“Sorry. That’s just Black,” he explained. “She’s kind of weird. Sometimes I’ll be working in here with her on the couch or the chair, and she’ll leave to go stand in the living room and just scream ‘Hello!’ over and over again.”

His laughter turned into a kind of giggle as he stood up and headed into the kitchen, which was all gleaming hardwoods and bright white cabinets and countertop. Each room had coffered ceilings with dark wood popping against white paint. Keith wondered if he was really in a museum as Shiro brought him through the dining room and into the living room, introducing him to each room to the soundtrack of Black yelling “Hewwwoah” from somewhere in the house.

The living room had the same historic finishes as the kitchen and dining room but was much cozier. A thick teal area rug was centered under a grey coffee table and an enormous navy-blue sectional couch filled with throw pillows and blankets, across from a long, low television stand holding a large, new looking tv. A stairwell ran behind the couch. The Christmas tree he’d been able to see when they pulled in was in the corner in front of the window, situated between an old brick fireplace and the television stand. At the end of the room was a dark-wood door with glass inserts, leaving no question that a mudroom and the front door lay beyond.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Shiro offered, gesturing to the couch. “Can I get you a drink?”

Keith picked up a white-and-green throw pillow with “Farm Fresh Christmas Trees” emblazoned on the front, moving it to sit in the middle of the couch.

“Sure! I’ll take whatever.”

Shiro laughed again, heading back into the dining room to the old-fashioned bar cart they’d passed by.

“Hey Atlas,” Shiro called as he pulled two cocktail glasses from a guilt-in cabinet, “Shuffle _The Noise and the Funk_ playlist.”

Something familiar but definitely instrumental and jazz floated from the speakers in the living room. Keith watched as he set the glasses on the cart and plucked a shaker from the top before disappearing into the kitchen. After a tell-tale _thunk!_ that Keith could only imagine was ice being dropped into the shaker, Shiro whisked back into the dining room and picked up a bottle of brown liquor. He counted out loud as he poured into the shaker, followed it up with more counting and liquid from a green bottle, then finished with four quick shakes from a smaller, paper-wrapped bottle.

Keith had to stifle a laugh as Shiro stirred the contents, giving him a grin before swapping the spoon for a strainer and splitting liquid between the two glasses. He popped open a jar and fished out the contents, dropping one into each glass. He wiped his hands on a dish towel hanging off the side of the cart before bringing both glasses into the living room and taking a seat next to Keith.

He passed one of the glasses off to him, raising his to Keith with another million-watt smile. Shiro took a sip in a kind of toast and closed his eyes for a second, breathing out in a sigh.

Keith sniffed the drink before taking a cautious sip. He hadn’t been able to make out what all the bottles were, but he saw now that a dark, plump cherry was sitting in the bottom of the rounded glass. Much like the rest of his house, the glass appeared up close to be an antique, a rounder version of a martini glass that he thought he’d seen used for champagne in some depiction of a party in the 1920s.

The drink was strong but delicious. A little sweet after the burn.

“I like to think it’s a perfect Manhattan, but I probably just feel that way because it’s mine,” Shiro said with a little bit of a laugh.

“I don’t know if I’ve had one before,” Keith confessed. “It’s good.”

After a second, he finally recognized the tune – a jazz version of Cry Me a River.

He let Shiro sip on his drink for another minute before he cleared his throat. “You owe me a story, I think.”

Shiro’s cheeks pinked and he sunk into the couch. He swirled the liquid in his glass, eyes pinned on it. “I hate to ruin the mood.”

Keith laughed and shook his head. “Shiro, you listened to me geek out over my dissertation for, like, an hour earlier. If that didn’t ruin the mood, I think you’re safe.”

“I enjoyed hearing about it! I have no frame of reference for any of that. It’s interesting to me,” Shiro shot back, eyes crinkling at the edges with a big smile. “But a deal is a deal.” He drained the glass and got up to make himself another.

He brought the shaker and strainer back with him this time, setting them down on a coaster on the coffee table after refilling Keith’s glass. He settled on the couch a little closer to Keith before blowing out a breath.

“James… was- _is_ a pretty good friend of my ex’s. He and Adam were some of the first people I met after I moved out here. I think he got it into his head that they were supposed to ride off into the sunset together and he got really weird when Adam asked me out. Adam and I moved in together and James lost it – started, started spinning stuff about me being out with other guys and telling Adam I was two-timing him.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink before continuing. “At first, Adam didn’t believe him. After a while, though, he started to and instead of talking to me about it, he decided to hook up with James to get back at me.”

Keith was unable to keep his face blank as his brows furrowed. He shook his head at Shiro’s sad smile. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“Yep, it sure was,” Shiro said, laughing without much humor behind it. “But… it told me everything I needed to know about the person I was in a relationship with. Which sounds pretty Pollyanna-ish now, I know.”

“When was that?”

“A little over two years ago, maybe?”

Keith was floored. “And you suggested we go to the place where this guy works. For a date.”

Shiro blushed and kept his eyes glued to his quickly disappearing drink.

“…And you didn’t tell me _before_ so I could punch him?” Keith continued, making Shiro choke on a sip.

He beamed at Shiro when he looked up, then scooted a little closer to him. With his left leg folded under him, he gently tapped Shiro’s knee with his own.

“Oh, c’mon. It was practically ages ago. Besides,” Shiro said once he caught his breath, blush still staining his cheeks as he placed a hand on Keith’s knee carefully. “I was there with you, so I’m obviously not doing too poorly, maybe?”

Keith snorted and shifted closer still, butterflies in his stomach barely slowed by the alcohol, maybe even made bolder. His eyes flicked over Shiro’s face and reached up slowly to touch his jaw. “No, definitely not doing too poorly from where I’m sitting.”

He leaned into Shiro’s space and watched his gaze drop to Keith’s mouth for a second before closing the gap between them. Shiro was warm and soft against Keith’s lips. Keith’s thumb skated further along his jaw to wrap gently around the back of Shiro’s neck as he pressed closer. Growing braver, Keith slowly opened to slip his tongue along Shiro’s bottom lip. Shiro met him with his own tongue and slid his hands along Keith’s waist, wrapping around him and pulling him closer.

They spent a small eternity like that, leaning close together, drinking each other in. Keith bit gently on Shiro’s lower lip before sliding a hand underneath the hem of his sweater, surprised by the definition apparent under his t-shirt.

“Heh- _rooowww!!!_ ”

They broke apart slightly to look at Black, now sitting between them and the coffee table on the floor.

“Heh- _rooooowwww!_ ” She scream-meowed again, head tilting at the two of them.

Keith couldn’t help but start laughing, releasing Shiro and settling back into the couch as Shiro reached over to scratch Black behind the ears, cooing to her. The cat jumped up onto his lap, making biscuits on his thigh before settling down, looking at Keith.

“You didn’t say she was the jealous type,” Keith observed, smiling.

Shiro giggled, again, rubbing Black’s forehead right above her non-existent nose. She started purring.

“She’s probably just miffed I’m sitting on the couch with you instead of in bed. _It’s late, huh, puddin’?”_

Now that Keith had heard Shiro address Kosmo and Black with the same high-pitched reserved-for-four-legged-friends voice, he thought he might melt into the couch.

“How long have you had her?”

Shiro dropped his head side to side, considering. “Ten years. I got her when she was a kitten while I was finishing up my undergrad degree.” He giggled again, his head lolling back against the couch as he continued stroking her face-fur. “She was this tiny, angry puff of black at the shelter, swiped at everyone who went by the cage, but she let me pick her up and she fell asleep in my hand. I didn’t have my prosthetic yet, so I think she knew she could take me.”

The cat flipped the top part of her body into Shiro’s thigh, front paws pulled up, chin and chest exposed. Keith reached out slowly to scratch her chin and was rewarded with redoubled purring.

“She’s very sweet,” Keith said, scratching down to her chest and looking up at Shiro. He wanted to ask about his arm, wanted to know everything about Shiro. He tamped down on the inclination, eyes scanning over his scar, his cheeks, his ears, his hair.

With Keith distracted, Black had enough and rolled off Shiro onto the floor, trotting toward the dining room. Keith’s hand hovered over Shiro’s lap for a second before he opted to drop it back onto his knee.

Shiro met his gaze as he covered Keith’s hand with his own. “So are you,” he said quietly, soft smile gracing his features.

Keith snorted. “Smooth.”

“I try,” Shiro replied, leaning back in to brush his lips against Keith’s. His hands moved to Keith’s waist, dwarfing it as he pulled him closer and into his lap. Keith went more than willingly, redoubling his efforts at consuming Shiro, tongue licking deftly into Shiro’s mouth.

Rewarded with a soft but deep groan and Shiro’s arms tightening around him, Keith pressed close to him and rolled his hips. He slid his hands up Shiro’s chest, along his neck, and finally into his hair, holding him in place as he broke away to drop kisses along his jawline to his ear.

It had been a minute since Keith had an opportunity to mess around with someone, and he wasn’t sure that he’d ever made out with someone that checked off all his boxes like Shiro. His hair was so soft, he was gorgeous, and he was _responsive_ as all get-out: Keith’s blunt nails scratching lightly against his scalp elicited a soft gasp that melted into a moan when he bit softly on Shiro’s earlobe.

He dragged his tongue along the shell of his ear before whispering, “You like that?” Shiro hummed and shuddered, pulling Keith down into his lap to grind against him. There was no question, if Shiro’s hardness brushing back and forth against his own was any indication. Sighing, Keith rolled his hips again and kissed down the side of Shiro’s neck to try to muffle his own keening. His skin felt electric as he leaned back into Shiro’s grip, creating some space between them so he could look at the man becoming slowly unhinged below him.

Shiro rolled his head to face him on directly, and Keith’s breath caught. A flush was gracing his cheeks and his neck, disappearing beneath his sweater. He could barely see the grey in his eyes with how blown his pupils were. He was gorgeous like this and Keith found himself trying to commit the view to memory again.

Reaching up with his left hand, Shiro brushed a few strands of Keith’s hair from his face and stroked down the tail of his braid. The gesture was sweet, intimate.

“I have a confession to make,” Shiro blurted suddenly. “Well, two.”

Keith sat back a little, could feel his eyebrows popping up, and had to resist the urge to cross his arms over his chest, to physically guard himself. “Okay.”

The thumb of Shiro’s right hand was methodically rubbing circles into Keith’s lower back. He tried to focus on the soothing motion, tried not to tense up.

“First, I have a rule. It’s a personal one but… I don’t sleep with guys on the first date that I want to see again,” Shiro said, managing to look a little bashful.

 _Oh, is that all?_ Keith thought. The tension slipped out of him almost as quickly as it had built up.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect anything different from someone born in the ‘40s,” Keith quipped, grinning.

He was rewarded by a laugh and a roll of Shiro’s eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Although,” Keith continued, “I guess that means you want to see me again?”

Shiro’s face was soft as he nodded. “Very much. I don’t want you to think anything else, especially if it seems like we’re going to… _y’know_ … and then we don’t.”

Snorting again, Keith leaned in and kissed him gently before sitting back on Shiro’s thighs. “Well, I appreciate the heads up.”

“I’m probably just… projecting,” Shiro started, then stopped, looking away briefly before closing his mouth and looking back up at Keith with a smile.

Keith smoothed his sweater, careful not to feel him up but unable not to notice the lines of muscle obscured by layers of clothing. _Damn._ “You, uh, you said two things.”

Shiro hummed and scrubbed a hand down his face, blushing almost immediately and smiling. “I did.”

“And…?”

The hand over his face redirected to find one of Keith’s, metal fingers twining with flesh ones. “Oh, it’s so dumb, Keith.”

He felt his heart swell at Shiro saying his name unexpectedly. He squeezed gently. “Tell me anyway.”

Shiro looked up, cheeks still blazing. “I… I, ah…” The next part came out in a rush. “I totally know how to connect my laptop to the projector. I’ve been teaching in there all semester. I just couldn’t think of a way to talk to you.”

Keith blinked at Shiro for a moment before dissolving into laughter. “ _Seriously_??”

“Oh, I know it’s dumb!” he said, both arms coming up to hide his face. “I just looked in the hall and you were there, and I wanted to talk to you but I didn’t know how, and my friend Allura was like ‘ _Just pretend you’re a luddite, you should be good at that_ ’, and it seemed like a decent opening.”

Keith managed to at least suppress his laughter into the giggles. “Shiro, that’s probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Shiro parted his arms just enough to look at him before Keith reached up and moved them away, sliding both of his hands into Shiro’s. “You don’t think I’m a creep.”

Grinning, Keith shook his head and leaned in again to kiss him. “No, I don’t think you’re a creep.”

He slipped off Shiro’s lap and under his right arm, pressed up close to his side, head resting against his shoulder. “There had to be more to that conversation, though.”

He felt Shiro perk up. “What?”

“Well,” Keith started, “You were in the hall for, like, fifteen minutes.”

Shiro dropped his head against the couch so as not to look at him. “Oh. You knew.”

Keith laughed, reaching across with his left hand to rub Shiro’s stomach slowly. He felt his brain short for just a second at the hard lines there. _Damn_. “Oh, I knew. I’m pretty sure the northern hemisphere knew, what with the loudest keyboard ever made on a phone.”

“Ughhh,” was all Shiro responded with, his free hand coming up to hide his eyes. “Busted.”

“Busted,” Keith agreed.

After a second of wallowing, Shiro dropped his hand from his face and squeezed Keith’s shoulder, venturing to look at him. “You have to know how stunning you are.”

Keith rolled his eyes.

“Really. I’ve –” Shiro stopped, bit his lip for a second. “Okay, confession number three: I’ve seen you and Kosmo running on campus before. And I’ve definitely seen Kosmo run by here, I would assume with you. A few times. You being in the classroom on Wednesday, I – it was… was… I panicked.”

It was Keith’s turn to blush.

“I’m a total creep, I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve just been straight with you. But, like I said, I want to see you again and I don’t think I could keep seeing you without you knowing.”

He shook his head, smiling up at Shiro’s exasperated face. “As long as you haven’t lured me here to turn me into a weird human skin lamp, you’re not a total creep. It’s…” Keith sighed. “It’s flattering.”

Shiro sagged beside him in what seemed like relief. Slipping a hand behind his neck, Keith pulled him down into another kiss, softer this time. He brushed his nose against Shiro’s before pulling back. “Are you always such a boy scout, though? Is that your secret?”

“I’ll show you a boy scout,” he replied, grinning before covering Keith’s lips with his own and pushing him back into the couch.

His fingers dug into Keith’s hips as Shiro situated himself between his legs. Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and kissed him back, all tongue and teeth, lifting into the pointed roll of Shiro’s hips against his. Shiro sucked on his tongue as he pulled Keith forward. Keith could feel Shiro’s cock against his ass through their pants and sighed, trying not to get too ahead of himself.

Shiro, on the other hand, seemed determined to make Keith come undone. He kissed and licked his way across Keith’s jaw, stopping just below his jawline as a swipe of his tongue against the joint elicited a sharp breath from Keith. He could feel Shiro grinning against his skin as he nipped the skin there, making his toes curl.

He continued kissing down his neck, stopping to graze his teeth against the skin at intervals, making Keith shift underneath him. Shiro leaned up to his ear when he reached the edge of Keith’s t-shirt. Just his breath ghosting on the helix made him want to crawl out of his skin, and Keith couldn’t stop the slow grind of his hips.

He was rewarded with a low chuckle and a soft bite to his earlobe. Keith wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure that he breathed Shiro’s name in response. He squeezed his eyes shut ( _when had they closed?_ ) as Shiro sucked gently, his fingers sliding back and forth along the hem of Keith’s shirt. Metal brushed against the skin of his stomach and he swiveled his hips again against Shiro’s bulge.

“Listen,” Shiro whispered, so close and warm. “I can’t send you home like this… Let me take care of you.”

Keith was putty under him, forcing his eyes open and nodding to him. Shiro pulled back just enough to slip Keith’s shirt off, and then he was kissing his way back down his neck, licking softly across his collarbone. His hands came to rest on Keith’s hips, holding them in place as he circled his own hips against him. As Shiro worked his way down, he stopped to suck small marks here and there. If he wasn’t so turned on, he would have been laughing – ever the boy scout, Shiro was clearly leaving marks behind that would be easy to cover. How thoughtful.

When Shiro settled over Keith’s left nipple, grazing it with his teeth while flicking his tongue back and forth over it, Keith yelped. Shiro raised his eyes to Keith’s face and continued, his breath blowing cool across it. Keith slipped a hand up to the back of Shiro’s head and buried it in his hair. Shiro kissed him softly before moving across to mirror his attention to his right nipple.

Shiro moved off the couch to kneel beside him, kissing down Keith’s stomach and nuzzling into the light trail of dark hair leading down to his jeans. Keith immediately missed the warmth afforded by having Shiro over him, but almost as quickly forgot about it when Shiro’s nuzzling continued over his jeans. He mouthed Keith’s hardness through the fabric, looking up at him with a little bit of mischief in his eyes.

Keith bit his lip and tried not to press into the back of Shiro’s head to hold him in place. He kissed softly down the length, spending just a little time leaving openmouthed kisses over the head, his breath warming through denim. When he pulled back, Keith ran his hand through Shiro’s hair from the front through to the back of his neck. Shiro reached up and took Keith’s hand to kiss his knuckles and palm before returning it to the back of his neck.

By the time Shiro undid Keith’s jeans and worked them and his boxer briefs down enough to free his cock, Keith’s fingers were worrying little circles into the nape of Shiro’s neck. His skin felt electric as Shiro’s breath hit him, his flesh hand carefully pulling his balls out from behind the band of his underwear. He felt so exposed like this, on display, though not remotely unpleasant. He hoped that Shiro hadn’t noticed the twitch of his dick under his gaze, but judging from the smirk suddenly gracing Shiro’s lips, he figured he was about as subtle as a barn.

“You’re more gorgeous than I imagined,” he said, barely above a whisper. Shiro’s eyes flicked up to his again as he reached out with his tongue, lapping up the precum there. Keith felt his eyes roll to the back of his head as Shiro’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock and he sucked softly, his tongue rubbing gently underneath. He slipped his lips down the shaft and pulled back, barely sucking as he went along, the fingers of his prosthetic digging into Keith’s ass.

Keith sighed, running his fingers back and forth through Shiro’s hair. He was so strung out like this, laid out for Shiro to play like an expert musician. Shiro took a little more each time he pulled Keith into his mouth, until his nose pressed up into the trim hair at the base. Keith tensed as Shiro swallowed around him, his throat pressing in on the head in the most devastating way. He gripped the back of Shiro’s neck, moaning low and trying not to thrust into his mouth. Shiro stilled, waiting until Keith relaxed before pulling back, his tongue fluttering back and forth along the tip for a moment, and pushing back down quickly, thrusting Keith’s cock back down his throat. On the fourth round, Shiro moaned into him, the vibrations making Keith’s toes curl again.

He was panting, whispering Shiro’s name like a prayer, when Shiro pulled back, wiping his eyes and wrapping his left hand around Keith’s shaft. He held it back and kissed his way down the underside to his balls. He started to stroke methodically, his fingers flipping over the head of Keith’s cock again and again, just before his tongue slid down the seam of his sack. Keith groaned and let go of Shiro’s neck to fist in the couch cushions. He could see Shiro sucking one side into his mouth and then the other, his thumb swiping back and forth in the precum that kept beading on every stroke.

Then Shiro was sucking both of his balls into his mouth and Keith barely had time to warn him. His hips grinded up into Shiro’s hand as he came across his own stomach.

“Fuck, baby,” Shiro praised after pulling back. He rubbed his thumb back and forth in the slick as the last few pulses sent a few more drops of cum dribbling lazily down his cock.

Keith just lay there. Fuck, indeed.

He couldn’t do much more than watch as Shiro leaned forward to lick his shaft clean, careful not to overstimulate him too much. He sat back on his heels and licked at his hand, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

Shiro stood and kissed his forehead before words had come back to him. “Stay put. I’ll go grab a towel.”

Keith was more than happy to just lay there feeling like goo. He raised a hand to his face and pressed a palm into his eyes. Holy shit.

“Good boy,” Shiro said upon seeing Keith in the same place he’d left him. Keith opened his eyes to Shiro putting a glass of water down on the coffee table and kneeling again beside him, the praise stirring his dick slightly.

The washcloth he’d grabbed was blue and white checked, and warm when he put it to Keith’s skin. He carefully cleaned up Keith’s stomach (and chest, if Keith was being really honest) and wiped his own hands with a relatively clean corner before kissing him soundly and disappearing with the towel.

Keith sat up and found his shirt, pulling it on to beat back the chill of drying water. He reached for the glass and saw Black sitting under the Christmas tree, silently judging him.

“You would’ve done the same thing in my position,” he said just before taking a sip.

She stared him down as she cleaned a paw.

Shiro came back and flopped on the couch next to him, looking over at him with that brilliant smile. Keith wanted to do so many things to him, but he’d wait for now and follow Shiro’s lead.

“So… I don’t want to pressure you,” Shiro started. “It’s 12:30 –”

“Way past your bedtime,” Keith quipped, rewarded again by Shiro’s laugh.

“Definitely past my bedtime. If I’m up much later, my brain will go to bed even though my body won’t. So, you can stay here and I can either give you a lift home in the morning, or I can give you a lift now before I drop… If you stay here, I’ll try my hardest to keep my hands off of you.” He winked and Keith knew his heart was gone.

He took another sip of water, mulling it over. He wanted desperately to go upstairs and repay Shiro’s hospitality, if he would let him.

“I know it’s hard with pets to be away,” he added.

Ugh, Kosmo. If he’d thought to text Hunk earlier, he could have rationalized not being a bad roommate and dog owner. However, he knew he _should_ be responsible and head home.

“I do need to head home for Kos – but it’s not far. I can walk.”

Shiro shook his head and stood, reaching out for Keith’s hand and hoisting him up. “Nonsense. What kind of man lets his date walk home?”

Keith laughed as Shiro ducked to kiss him again and soundly. He could taste himself on Shiro’s tongue and found himself excited by it.

They held hands as Shiro led him back to the office to throw on their coats and shoes, then took his hand up again once they were in his car.

Keith gazed out the window. At some point between arriving at Shiro’s and now, the weather had turned hard into winter and the rain had turned to snow. It stuck to the sidewalks and the grass, painting everything but the road in a soft white.

Shiro double-parked alongside Hunk’s car outside of his apartment and made it to Keith’s door before he had a chance to open it. Keith stood into Shiro’s outstretched arm, draped across his shoulder as they walked up the stairs to his door.

“I think it goes without saying, but,” Keith said quietly, “I had a great time, Shiro.”

“Me too,” Shiro agreed, dropping his arm to hold Keith’s hand. “Let me know when you’re free? I know it’s probably bad timing with the end of the semester and your dissertation and—”

Keith leaned up, cutting him off with a soft kiss, his hands resting on Shiro’s cheeks. “I’ll definitely let you know.”

Shiro visibly relaxed. “You know, if you and Kos want to take a break mid-run to stop by for treats and coffee, I’m a homebody over the weekend.”

“We might take you up on it,” Keith replied, stroking over his cheekbones before kissing him one more time and opening the door. “Let me know when you get home.”

“Will do,” Shiro said, waving as Keith disappeared up the stairs.

He let himself into his apartment to Hunk and Pidge camped out on the couch with beers and some first-person shooter, Kosmo passed out at their feet.

“The prodigal son returns,” Hunk called out to him, just before swearing.

“Yo, pay attention,” Pidge admonished, laughing. “You get so distracted.”

“It’s not every day that Keith goes on a date. How’d it go?”

Keith blushed almost immediately, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Good. …Great. I’m going to see him again.”

When Keith reappeared, Pidge glanced up from the TV. “We can pause this if you want to chat.”

Keith waived her off and whistled for Kosmo, who blinked slowly before jumping to his feet and trotting into Keith’s bedroom. “Nah, it’s late. We can talk tomorrow. I’m beat.”

They called goodnight to him as he shut the door. He pulled his phone and wallet out of his pocket before shedding his clothes, throwing the wallet onto his desk and crawling into bed next to Kosmo, who had already fallen back to sleep.

Keith chuckled to himself as he plugged his phone in and saw he had two texts. Both from Shiro.

_Just got in. Had a great time tonight – can’t wait to see you again._

_This might be forward, but this was on the radio and I thought of you_.

Below the second text was an Altas Music link. Keith clicked it and couldn’t help but blush.

“… _So kiss me on this cold December night._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I am very clearly Soft for Sheith™. I started writing this at the beginning of December and have only just finished up, so forgive me that this is kinda Christmas themed but not posted until February.
> 
> I heard Cold December Night by one Michael Bublè and was just like "Oh, Sheith vibes."
> 
> This being my first VLD-tangential fic, thank you so much for reading!


End file.
